


Dear Sunshine

by LexaCandles



Category: Karlie Kloss - Fandom, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Car Accidents, Closeted Character, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Memory Loss, Romance, i love taylor's nickname for karlie and that is what inspired this story, nobody dies or cheats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 21:05:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15671280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexaCandles/pseuds/LexaCandles
Summary: A poltergeist was skulking behind me. Claws out, teeth sharp. It was waiting to drop me at the height of a roller coaster, the vantage of Big Ben, the tip of the Empire State Building, into my doubts, insecurities, and worries. If you were here, you would burn them with your smile.One-shot AU about why Karlie is Taylor's sunshine.





	Dear Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We Are Written in the Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698312) by [zerodawn_vibes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodawn_vibes/pseuds/zerodawn_vibes). 



Dear Sunshine,

You were the kind of girl I dreamed of, the kind I needed in my life. You were everything I didn't deserve, and everything I threw away.

Blue has been your color since you were three. Instead of princesses and dollhouses, baseball hats littered your childhood room and Cardinals posters were blu-tacked to the walls. Buttermilk biscuits were your jam because it reminded you of days baking in your grandma's kitchen, of Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas mornings—it reminded you of home. If I had another chance, I wouldn't let you go.

We met on 5th June 2014 at Lily's place for her birthday. Skyscrapers splintered the night sky and poked yellow boxes in the air. The glass of red wine in my hand trailed droplets down my wrist and popped splotches onto deep red pleats. The night was young and so were Hollywood's most eligible bachelorettes. Short bursts of laughter erupted from the group of models, actors, and singers in the living room. Pop music was playing from the speakers, pulling some to sway along to Adele or shimmy to Ed Sheeran. Yet, here I was, alone, leaning over the balcony and savoring the dry withering liquid as it burned low in my throat.

A tap on my shoulder and the birthday girl was standing behind me, big smiles and a twinkle in her eyes. Here she goes again, playing devil's advocate.

"Hey, Taylor! I want you to meet someone." Lily pulled a slender hand forward, and that was how I met you. You had the biggest smile I had ever seen (it had to hurt your cheeks), your arms went around me in greeting and my hand that went for a shake, hugged you back. It was short lived.

"This is Karlie. She's a Victoria Secret Angel." There was a shout for Lily, an apology to us, and off went Cupid Aldridge into the pack of heads bopping in sync.

"Um, hi, I'm Taylor." A sip of my drink acidified the lump in my throat. Beauty was an understatement when it came to you.

"Hi! I'm a huge fan of your music!" That explained the star-struck look on your face. The muscles on my face relaxed.

"Thank you! And you are a very tall supermodel." Talk about the obvious, Swift. But, you took me by the heels of my boots: You laughed. Loudly. It kissed my heart like fireflies huddling for warmth.

"Yeah, my friends think I'm a baby giraffe!" You grinned and poked your tongue out. The resemblance was truly uncanny and for the first time in months, I laughed. It was a forgotten melody hidden in a treasure map.

As we swapped numbers, our screens were stars on earth. It illuminated the curves of our lips and the glimmer in our eyes. And if I had peered into your eyes long enough, I would've seen us cuddling on my couch, drinking beer on rooftops and kisses on cheeks. But I couldn't see that then, because all I saw was the color of palm leaves, changing in shades of green that said, if you dare, come a little closer. You should have known I liked playing with fire and temptation was never a saint.

It's a miracle we never met before. We must have passed by each other a million times and our friends knew us, not together, but separately. Perhaps this was fate saying Hey, look! You two were not meant to be together until now! Because I was 25, and you were 22 —we had our broken moments that we pieced back together in mosaic vases; we were wiser.

Weeks flew by, and we had adventures on our phones. You learned that I had an obscene obsession for Grey's Anatomy and I learned that The Office always made you throw your head back in laughter. On some nights, the smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted in the air, and we danced as if no one was there.

"... and that's the difference between Python and JavaScript!" You said, gesturing wildly in the air. Your plate of half-eaten vegan pancakes and a cup of cappuccino idled by on the table. The café was rich with the smell of roasted pine nuts and brewed coffee. Workaholics and gym-goers sprinkled bone-white tables, their noses lost in their laptops clicking away or in their phones about to post a photo of their food. No one noticed the two lanky women chatting at the back of the café.

"Oh, sorry, look at me rambling..." A slice of pancake disappeared into your mouth and you reached for your coffee to wash it all down. Except, you forgot it was still piping hot.

"OUCH," You said, dragging the 'tch' out in your pain. It had burnt your tongue, so you tried to breathe in and out rhythmically, the tip of your tongue hanging out.

"You're cute," I said, giggling. Outside, the sun was peeking over the horizon, casting nets of orange over lower Manhattan. Any minute now and people will know that Taylor Swift and Karlie Kloss were hanging out in a quaint coffeehouse downtown.

Your hand slithered across the table to clutch mine. It was a simple gesture, an innocent daydream, but you were molten lava and my fears fueled the heat. I sheathed my hand back to my lap.

This was not the first time you'd touched me. We'd often throw longing glances and shy smiles behind closed doors and I'd let you peck my cheek before you slipped out of my apartment and into the streets, head down and hands in your pockets. I liked that. You must have been scratching your head, wondering why I was scuttering over a mere touch.

A group of girls sauntered in, their light-hearted voices warring sirens in my head. My leg started bouncing under the table. A familiar sense of dread curled inside of me. Tremors ran down my hands. We need to leave, now.

"Do you," I said, clearing my throat, "do you want to go back to my place?"

"Only if you explain why you did that just now." Your eyes skewed through me, begging for an answer.

I grimaced. Looks like there was no way out of this.

"Karls... I like you. I do. But we can't be together." My black-painted nails tapped the edges of my phone. Would you leave if I told you my demons?

"Why not? I know coming out isn't an option, but we can still have a normal relationship and –"

"No, we can't. I tried to before with my..." I took a deep breath. "With my ex-fiancée and it didn't work out. Who am I kidding? It ended terribly, and I don't want you to go through that. Alright?" The group of girls I spotted earlier, had their phones up, probably videoing. The paparazzi will be here soon.

Through my eyelashes, you had pursed your thin pink lips, eyebrows furrowed in deep contemplation.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Tay. But you won't know if you don't try." Leaning forward, you rest your folded arms on the table.

"Karls, you don't understand-" You caught my hand in a sugary-hold, making my heart skip eight beats at once. I looked at our hands, resisted the urge to pull back, and looked up again.

"You trust me, don't you? I'm here for you no matter what." A gentle, determined smile swallowed your face and sure enough, my walls came crumbling down. How did you always know what to say? The paparazzi never came.

If this was The Notebook, you would be Noah and I would be Allie and just like Allie, I didn't read your letters - your warning signs. On 24th September 2014, as green leaves fashioned into orange and yellow patches, something broke inside of you.

"Babe, can we talk?" The last of the dishes sat gingerly on the rack as you slowly wiped your hands off a towel. I got off my bar stool and walked past you to gather Olivia in my arms, her snowy fur comforting me. Everything goes wrong when your lover says those three words.

"Yeah, what is it?" Strolling back to my seat, I massaged her head and drew out a purr. It sounded like a mini race car.

"I was thinking," You paused, before releasing the grenade. "Why don't we go out for dinner tonight?"

I stopped petting Dibbles. She jumped out of my arms.

"We can't do that," I said. I didn't need to see your face to know how it looks like. We've had this conversation too many times.

"...you can't or won't?"

"You know I love you, right?" I blurted out.

"If I actually meant something to you, you would've said yes a long time ago. I'm not asking for us to go public, Tay. I'm just asking for us to hold hands or have our dinner outside once in a while."

"Our careers are at stake here. People are already talking about us, Karls."

"They will always talk about us," You mumbled.

"Look, I promise we will go out another time." I was so tired of going in circles and you were too.

"You always say that, but it's been three months, Taylor! Three months!" You dragged your hand through your sun-like tresses. I never noticed the lines on your forehead quite so clearly.

"Three months of promises, secrecy and guilt, and on the off chance we were out together, you didn't even look at me! Were you so afraid of others that you couldn't even look at your girlfriend!?"

In hindsight, I should've told you about how Diana and I broke up. I should've told you about how I introduced her to my mom, our hands clasped in unity, rings glistening. I should've told you of how my mom crucified our hopes with scorned looks and merciless screams. Dad had his head in his hands, mumbling something that sounded like God help us. And my little brother, his reaction stung the worst – he didn't seem to care. Not one word. I should've told you everything, but I said nothing.

A sigh the size of an avalanche shuttled its way out of you. The door opened and closed.

The sound of tires squealing against asphalt dribbled a sinking ball of panic in me. Metal clanged and coughed, and glass stuttered and croaked. Everyone within the vicinity would've heard the piece of junk moaning on the road. There was no way you could be in a car accident at this timing. This wasn't a movie. Nonetheless, I sprinted out the door in my tank top and sweatpants. I could already hear my publicist scolding me for not changing.

If this was a movie, your stunt double would stand up and sweep the dirt off her dark blue jeans and you would sip on your coffee, waiting to take your place.

But this was a real nightmare.

I crept towards you. A howl framed us.

You laid there unmoving as the smell of gasoline surrounded you. If it wasn't for the cuts marring your face, I would've thought you were sleeping. Red and blues blurred past me. That animalistic howling sent goosebumps down my skin.

Hands were pulling me everywhere, voices were speaking from everywhere and you were everywhere, but I don't recognize you anymore. The howling got nearer until it was next to my ear. Your smooth tan skin was clawed with glass. Your leg was kneaded into a roll of dough. From concrete, bloomed a bed of roses and I traced its stem back to you, to the dam on the side of your head.

I realized I was the one howling all along. My makeup was streaming down my face. The words from my mouth were pinball shaky. At that moment, the world knew we existed outside of my room and tomorrow, they will read articles titled:

_TAYLOR SWIFT LOST IT!_

_ARE TAYLOR AND KARLIE MORE THAN FRIENDS?_

Oh, and my favorite: _HAS TAYLOR BEEN LYING ABOUT HER SEXUALITY?_

I should call my publicist to take down the videos, but the roses were plunging its thorns into your skin. Maybe I was the thorn in your side after all.

 _Subarachnoid hemorrhage_ : a condition caused by head trauma whereby the area between your brain and the tissue around it is bleeding; you were a step away from meeting your maker because the cushion in your head was losing its cotton wool.

"I am sorry. There is a chance she might go into a coma, paralysis and possibly death." The man in white said. He sounded like a shadow of my mom; anticipating the worst outcomes and filling the wrong holes. She was starting to sound right.

"Patients who suffer from head trauma have a chance of having memory loss as well. If she wakes up, I want you to be prepared for it."

I nodded. The door closed, and we were alone. A poltergeist was skulking behind me. Claws out, teeth sharp. It was waiting to drop me at the height of a roller coaster, the vantage of Big Ben, the tip of the Empire State Building, into my doubts, insecurities, and worries. If you were here, you would burn them with your smile.

You don't need to ask to know I will wait for you. Even when time sprints by us and the arms of hell welcome us, and you can trace the lines of sadness, joy, hope, disappointment, lies, and truths between my eyes; when you come out of your muddy spell, say you will remember me.

If you remember our love story, if you still want me, find me at the café where everything changed.

Love,  
Your Princess.

A letter adorned with cat stickers rests between slender fingers. The doorbell giggles as Karlie steps into the almost empty cafe. Avocado eyes drift from table to table, stopping at a woman with blonde curly hair seated at the back.

Despite the past month blurring by her in a whirl of confusion and Who are you?s, seeing Taylor fills her with certainty. It took the letter, polaroids and lots of time for the missing pieces to fall into place, but she remembers now, and nothing has changed. She still feels the same.

"Hey, I read your letter," Karlie says, the pink paper high up in the air. Does Taylor still love her? Has she changed? Her hands are slick with sweat.

Taylor slowly stands and turns around. Her red pleated dress is too fancy for a neighborhood cafe in lower Manhattan, but Karlie thinks it suits her. She can wear a trash bag and still look like a princess.

Her mouth opens and closes, searching for the right words as tears burst from her blue eyes. Kacy smiles at her and her cheeks hurt.

It's the best kind of smile.

Taylor kisses Karlie without fear, pulls back, and whispers,

"Welcome back, Sunshine."

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you have read until here, thank you so much for reading my story! This was my first time attempting 2nd pov so i hoped it worked. This story was originally written for my creative writing assignment and I was dying to post it after it was completed.


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